Two men were running down a dark alley, chuckling to themselves.
"That was easy!" one said. "She didn't even put up a struggle!"
The other held up a purse, obviously not belonging to him.
"Yeah," he replied. "A piece of ..."
His reply was rudely interrupted by the sudden appearance of a caped apparition, looming in front of them. The figure towered above them, just standing there. The figure easily picked up the two thugs and held them out at arm's length.
"Who are you?" one asked hesitantly.
"I'm Batman!"
On the other side of town, in another dark alley, a woman was being mugged by yet another hoodlum.
"Help! Batman!"
A shadowy figure appeared out of the darkness, but the silhouette was definitely female in form. A few swift kicks brought the assailant to his knees. She turned to the victim.
"You make it so easy, don't you?" the figure hissed. "Always waiting for some Batman to save you!"
She turned back to the unconscious attacker. With two fast strokes, her claws turned the mugger's face into a grisly tic-tac-toe board.
"I am Catwoman! Hear me roar!"
A battered government-issue car was careening down a dark highway late at night. Inside were two conservatively-dressed FBI agents.
"You're lost again, aren't you?" Scully muttered.
"Not lost," Mulder replied. "Just temporarily disoriented."
"Men!" she snapped. "I told you to ask for directions back there."
She dug a map out of the glove compartment.
"Wait, Scully, there's a town up ahead."
The road suddenly opened up onto a brightly-lit expressway that led into a large city.
"That's odd," she thought. "There's no city shown on this map."
"There's a sign," he replied. "It says, 'Welcome to Gotham City'."
"Gotham City? Never heard of it."
The two stopped at a small diner for coffee. Mulder picked up a local newspaper and scanned the front-page articles.
"Look at this!" Mulder said excitedly.
Scully glanced at the paper. It was full of stories about a mysterious Bat-man running loose in the city.
"So?" she asked. "It sounds like some guy running around in a Halloween costume."
"No, wait!" Mulder replied. "The article says he's twelve feet tall, can fly, and has superhuman strength! He's apparently some sort of vigilante, but the police can't track him down. Every time they corner him, he vanishes into thin air!"
"He's probably some urban legend cooked up by the news media."
"I suspect a government cover-up here!"
"Mulder, you think it's a government conspiracy that there's no Betty Rubble in Flintstone Vitamins!"
"Well, why is there a vitamin in the shape of Fred's pet dinosaur, even his car, for chrissake, but no Betty!"
Scully's eyes rolled up. She's heard this all before.
"There's more! The paper says there is also a Bird-man, a Cat-woman, even a Plant-woman!"
"All right," she sighed. "Let's check with the Gotham City police commissioner to get the lowdown on this menagerie."
"It's nice to hear from the big guys in Washington," greeted Commissioner Gordon. "Usually we don't hear from you until after some disaster has occurred."
"I'm agent Fox Mulder, and this is agent Dana Scully."
"Sit down. What can I do for you?"
"Commissioner, I understand you're the one most familiar with this Bat-man we read about."
"Yes, that's true. I've known Batman for over twenty years."
"What can you tell us about him?"
"Actually, not much. No one knows who he really is. Whenever some innocent citizen is in trouble, he shows up and saves the day. Batman has also proven invaluable in solving some of the most baffling crimes ever committed. He is a brilliant detective and has access to some of the most sophisicated forensic equipment available. Whenever I need him, I just call him."
"How, exactly, do you call him?"
"Well, " Gordon replied somewhat red-faced. "I shine a big light in the sky."
Scully and Mulder looked at each other.
"A big light, you say. Maybe you should call him Moth-man," Scully said sarcastically.
"I don't think 'Moth-man' would strike terror in the heart of too many criminals," Mulder replied.
"Is this Bat-man observing proper police procedures when apprehending a suspect?"
"Not exactly. He makes sure there is enough evidence to convict the perpetrator, but has his own unique methods of extracting a confession."
"So this Bat-man is basically, a vigilante."
"Technically, yes." Gordon replied. "But he's saved my life more than once. Batman is not some loose cannon! He doesn't use firearms and goes out of his way to avoid harming innocent bystanders."
"That may be so, but Batman is probably violating the suspect's rights."
"I would support him with my dying breath," Gordon stated firmly.
"You say you don't know who he is?"
"No one does. He wears a mask, some say to hide a badly disfigured face, but most likely to avoid identification. If not, he'd have been put out of business years ago by the lawyers."
"How about some of these other characters we read about? I understand there are others who are half-human, half animal or vegetable. That they take on the shape of a bird, a cat, or a plant."
Gordon laughed. "Yeah, that would be Penguin, Catwoman, and Poison Ivy."
"More vigilantes?"
"Just the opposite. They and their partners in crime have been the bane of this city. Their never-ending schemes have been keeping us busy for decades! If it wasn't for Batman, it would be a war zone here."
"Can we talk to some of your other personnel?"
"Be my guest. Oh, by the way, did I tell you about the killer clown?"
"These guys are nuts, Mulder," Scully said under her breath. The agents beat a hasty retreat.
In the hallway, a hulking man in a dirty coat encrusted with doughnut crumbs stopped them.
"You want to know about the Batman?" Detective Bullock bellowed.
"Well, yes."
"He's a freak! They all are! A headline-grabbing freak! I've been on the force for twenty years, and Batman has been a pain in the neck! He busts up our stakeouts, or flies in at the last minute and takes all the credit!"
"Uh, thank you, Detective," Mulder said. "Let's get back to our hotel room, Scully."
"Just think of it, Scully!" Mulder said excitedly. "A clear case of lycantropy."
"Lycantropy?" You mean as in the Wolfman?"
"Exactly! Ordinary people by day, animals by night!"
"I think we just got a bunch of kinky characters running around in rubber animal costumes."
"Well, that's another possibility."
"I don't think this involves the FBI," Scully decided. "The local authorities seem to have things under control."
Mulder looked dejected. Just then, an explosion took place outside their hotel window in the jewelry store across the street. They watched in fascination as a slinky purple-clad woman emerged who looked and acted just like a sleek jungle cat. The figure looked up in horror and saw a dark, winged creature drop down out of nowhere. The Cat-woman pulled out a whip and tried to fend off the shadowy figure. The two wrestled for several minutes, but the Cat-woman got in a lucky kick and sent the Bat-man spinning into some garbage cans. She cracked her whip at something in the air and disappeared. The Bat-man got up, recovered the loot, checked the store for injured, and called for police.
"Stop! FBI!" Mulder yelled as he and Scully ran out into the street.
The Bat-man pulled out what looked like a weapon. Both agents drew their service revolvers. The dark figure pointed his 'weapon' in the air and fired it. Something shot out of the device and in the blink of an eye, the Bat-man shot upwards out of sight. The agents checked out the area where the two figures fought it out.
"You find anything, Scully?" Mulder asked. "Scully? Scully?"
Scully woke up in a stinking sewer, but she wasn't alone. She could hear snickering and things scurrying about.. She drew her revolver.
"Welcome to my lair, agent Scully! I understand you've been asking about us."
Scully turned around and came face to face with a blobby figure with a long bill for a nose and flipper-like hands. He was dressed in formal but soiled clothes and wore a top hat and monocle. He also carried an odd-looking umbrella, which was pointed directly at her.
"Nice of you to drop in," Penguin went on. "Please put down your weapon. This umbrella shoots live rounds!"
Scully put her revolver on the ground. Penguin fired one round at it, sending the gun skittering off into the distance.
"That's better," he said, blowing the smoke from the end of the umbrella. "You two agents have been asking a lot of questions."
"Mulder and I are part of a special branch of the Bureau that deals with inexplicable or paranormal activity."
"Which are we," Penguin asked. "Inexplicable or paranormal?"
"Well, so far we've seen Batman and Catwoman, and you must be the one they call The Penguin. You seem like more or less normal people, so I guess you fall into the inexplicable category. So what is the deal with all of you?"
Penguin laughed with that peculiar quacking sound of his.
"You can blame it all on The Bat!" he suddenly shot back. "All of us owe our existance to Batman! You think there's just Catwoman, Poison Ivy, and me, but that's just the tip of the iceberg."
"Who else is there?"
"The list goes on and on. The Joker, The Riddler, Two-Face, The Scarecrow, Mad Hatter, Clayface, Killer Croc, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera...All of us, in one way or another, were created by Batman."
"What happened to all of you?"
"Some of us, like me, were born like this, while others had misfortune thrust upon them, through accident or design. Some, like Catwoman and Poison Ivy, look OK on the outside, in fact look terrific, but suffer psychological scars. The only difference between Batman and the rest of us is his dedication to fighting crime. We're trying to destroy the society that considers us freaks while he fights to preserve it!"
"Where can we talk to the others?"
"Just go to Arkham Asylum, my dear," Penguin replied. "That's where we all wind up, and so will Batman one day!"
With that, Penguin tipped his hat and walked off.
Scully retrieved her weapon and, with some difficulty, made her way back to the surface and back to the hotel. She was wet and bedraggled..
"Whew-w! Where have you been?" Mulder asked, holding his nose.
"I just got a tour of Gotham's sewer system courtesy of The Penguin."
She briefed Mulder on her experience.
"What we have here are not lycantropes, but scarred individuals who have used their disfigurements to their advantage, creating an identity to strike terror in the hearts of the populace."
"Where do we go from here?"
"Arkham Asylum."
Next day the two agents walked up to the gates of the most infamous lunatic asylum since Bedlam.
"Lovely facility," Mulder remarked. "Didn't I see this place in a Hitchcock movie?"
They went inside and talked to the administrator.
"Yeah, they all wind up here eventually," the administrator said. "Our accomodations may seem primitive, but we're talking about the most dangerous psychopaths on the planet!"
"Can we talk to some of the inmates, I mean patients?"
"Be my guest."
The walk down the main corridor was like a stroll through Hell. Screams and maniacal laughter filled the air. They stopped in front of one cell. The sign on the door said: Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow.
"Open the door," Mulder asked the orderly.
"Are you sure?" the orderly replied. "This one's a real loony!"
"Yes, open the door."
The agents stepped in and slowly walked over to the figure curled up in a fetus position on the bed.
"Mr. Crane?"
The figure suddenly straightened out and confronted the agents.
"It's Professor Crane to you!" he snapped. "The media has bestowed upon me the title of The Scarecrow!"
Even seasoned agents like Scully and Mulder were taken aback by the horrific visage that faced them. In spite of the prison fatigues he was forced to wear, it wasn't difficult to see how he got his name.
"Once I was a respected professor of psychology at Gotham University. My discoveries about the human nervous system and its reaction to various drugs were groundbreaking. I got obsessed about chemically-induced neuroses and began to experiment on my students. When my own students refused to participate, I sought out 'volunteers' on the campus at night. Then Batman came along!"
"How did Batman figure in this?"
"He was called in when some of my experiments got a little out of control. I lost my position and had to continue my experiments on my own. This required a lot of money. I used my expertise to induce fear in unsuspecting people. It's easy to rob a bank, say, if everyone in it is bouncing off the walls. Batman caught up with me and I wound up here."
Crane looked straight at the agents.
"It's my goal in life to drive him to complete madness. I nearly succeeded several times. One time I got him to completely reject all his supporters, but he found an ally in Catwoman, the only time I ever saw them work as a team."
Crane pressed a note into Mulder's hand.
"Will you give this note to Batman for me?" Crane asked.
"Uh, sure, I guess so," Mulder replied.
"Thank you," Crane answered. "Hee...Hee...Hee..."
Crane curled back up in a ball and refused to answer any more questions. The agents tried several more patients, but they all either refused to talk to them or were so sedated that they were unresponsive.
"So much for that!" Mulder muttered as they left the facility. "I feel a strange tingling in my hand."
"That's the one you had Scarecrow's note in!" Scully noted. "He must have put something on it!"
Mulder started shaking.
"I don't feel so good..." he said and passed out.
Mulder woke up strapped to a table in what looked like an operating room. He could see Scully on another table. Alien creatures of all shapes and sizes were hovering over them, clicking and buzzing to each other. One positioned an array of strange instruments over his head. Another brought in what looked like a futuristic chainsaw.
Mulder screamed.
He woke up feeling strangely disconnected. Then he saw his right arm over there, his left over there, and so on. He had been dismembered, each body part kept alive by artificial means.
Mulder screamed.
This time he awoke whole again, but suspended in a tank filled with a green fluid. Tubes were connected to his body, providing life support. Suddenly the tubes were removed and he could feel his body filling with fluid, slowly drowning.
Mulder screamed.
Now he was back on the operating table, but was surrounded not by aliens, but familiar faces: Skinner, Deep Throat, The Cigarette Smoking Man, Flukeman, Krycek, Duane Barry. Even José Chung was there taking notes. They bent over Mulder's body and snakelike tentacles shot out of their mouths.
Mulder screamed.
Mulder found himself in a plain cubicle cell, no visible doors or windows. The cell was totally bare except for a drain in the floor. Mulder sat down in a corner. He heard a gurgling sound. Out of the drain oozed the Black Oil, slowly moving towards the agent. The fluid touched Mulder's shoe.
Mulder screamed.
This time Mulder woke up on a hospital bed, Scully at his side. Expecting her to change into a monster or something, he grabbed her by the throat.
"Mulder!" she gasped. "It's all right! This is reality!"
He let go.
"The doctors say you have been given a powerful toxin," she went on. "You'll pass in and out of psychotic states, each one worse than the previous. They have no treatment."
"Maybe I can help," a voice said behind her. It was Batman.
The caped figure took a blood sample from Mulder, who was barely conscious. Scully gave him the poisoned note from Scarecrow.
"Wait! Can I ask you a couple of questions?"
Mulder moaned and Scully looked at him. When she turned around, Batman was gone.
Scully left the hospital to continue her investigations. A car roared up beside her and the driver, dressed as a circus harlequin, pointed a gun at her.
"Get in the car, sweetie!" Harley Quinn demanded.
Scully decided to comply, even though she noticed the gun Harley was brandishing had a cork stuck in the end of the barrel.
Scully found herself in what looked like an abandoned factory. She could just make out the words Axis Chemicals on one of the corroded tanks. She was led into a delapidated office.
"Here she is, Mr. J!" Harley announced.
"Ah, agent Scully, I presume!"
The man uttering that statement was dressed in wildly bright colors, but his face was what first caught Scully's eye. It was white as a ghost and the mouth was permanently twisted into a hideous grin. At his side were two hyenas.
Joker noticed her reaction. "Comedy isn't pretty, my dear!"
"And you are...?" Scully asked.
He bowed. "The Joker, The Clown Prince of Crime, at your service!"
"I suppose you're going to tell me how Batman turned you into the Joker," she guessed.
"I owe everything to Batman!" he screamed. "I used to be a small-time hoodlum, but Bats broke up our heist and I wound up in one of those vats!"
Joker pointed to the vats full of toxic chemicals.
"One day I'll return the favor," he cackled. "The thought of ol' Bats slowly descending into that tank...HEE! HEE! HEE!"
Scully shuddered. "Do you want me to set the record straight?"
"Actually, I couldn't care less. I just don't want the FBI poking around here! Lock her up, Harley!"
"Sure thing, Puddin'," Harley answered.
The agent started to fight back when Harley raised her pop-gun and pulled the trigger. The cork popped out, followed by a flag that said, "BANG!"
"You've got to be kidding!" Scully smirked.
Just then a green gas issued from the barrel and the intrepid agent was soon unconscious.
Back in the Bat-cave, Batman was examining Scarecrow's toxin. As he suspected, the note was saturated with a neurotoxin, which also appeared in Mulder's blood sample. All of the formidable resources at his disposal were used to analyze the samples. With Alfred's help, the results were fed into the Bat-cave's powerful computer. He tapped a few keys.
Neurotoxins, cross-referencing... the screen read.
Batman studied the results. As he feared, this was a new formula with no known cure or treatment. Furthermore, he had only six hours to come up with something before Mulder slipped into permanent psychosis.
"What I need is someone who was exposed to the toxin and survived, he thought.
"Reference all recent admissions to Gotham General for severe nervous disorders..." he typed in.
No match.
"Reference all recent admissions to Arkham Asylum and other mental institutions..."
No match.
"Scan recent news reports for individuals exhibiting similar behavior..."
A match! Batman stared at the name on the screen for several minutes.
"My word!" Alfred said. "She does seem to pop up when you least expect it, Master Bruce."¹
"Catwoman!" was all Batman could say.
The Dark Knight stood a lonely vigil on top of police headquarters. The bat-signal cut through the darkness like a knife, but instead of the usual bat-symbol, the shadow of a cat shown in the sky.
"We've got to stop meeting like this!" a sultry voice announced. A curvacious form emerged from the shadows and confronted the crimefighter.
"Catwoman, I need your help," the Darknight Detective implored.
Batman explained the situation to her.
"Why should I help them?" she asked. "Most of my run-ins with government types were not very pleasant. I need the FBI on my trail like I need a hole in my head!"
"According to Gordon, these two are different," he replied. "They've been instrumental in uncovering all sorts of conspiracies and coverups. Besides, I know you. If it's in your power to help, you will, even if it means possible capture."
He extended his hand. "A truce for now?"
"A truce." She clasped his hand. The two drew closer together. Her free hand stroked his chest emblem.
Batman broke the spell. "Come on, we've got work to do."
Mulder's attacks were getting worse. He was strapped to the bed to keep him from injuring himself or others, but the staff realized this would soon be inadequate.
"We're going to have to confine him to a padded cell," a doctor decided.
With the help of three burly orderlies, the struggling Mulder was taken to a private room and heavily sedated.
"That won't hold him for long!"
Mulder's world was crashing down around him. He could no longer separate fantasy from reality. He saw demons, monsters, aliens, conspirators, and other creatures.
"Hold still," a figure whispered.
Mulder looked over and watched as a six-foot tall bat appeared to be injecting him with something.
Mulder let out one last scream and passed out. A nurse rushed into the room.
"He should be all right now," Batman whispered. "Let him rest."
Across town, Scully looked out of the small window in the door of the office she was confined to. All she could see was old rusted equipment.
Harley's face suddenly appeared in the window. "Peek-a-boo!"
Harley unlocked the door and entered, this time brandishing much heavier artillery.
"OK, sweetie," she ordered. "Time to take a bath!"
Scully was led to a catwalk that extended over one of the bubbling vats. The Joker was watching the proceedings with his usual glee.
"You seem like an intelligent woman," Scully asked. "Why do you associate with that...comedian?"
"Call me irresponsible," Harley answered.
"Actually you should call her a convicted felon," a woman's voice rang out. "Wanted in twelve states and hopelessly in love with a murderous, psychotic clown!"
"Well if it isn't the purple pussycat!" Joker cracked, pulling out a gun with a ridiculously long barrel. "Here, Kitty, Kitty!"
Catwoman swung down from the rafters on her whip and sent the Joker crashing into a pile of rubble.
"Hold it right there, pussy!" Harley yelled. "One move, and the agent gets it!"
Harley stuck her cannon up against the side of Scully's neck.
"Oh, please," Catwoman replied. "How corny can you get?"
Scully took advantage of the distraction to elbow Harley in the ribs, causing her to drop her weapon. The two costumed women struggled on the floor. Scully grabbed Harley's handgun and kept the Joker at bay. Soon it was all over. Harley was no match for the street-tough Catwoman.
"We'll leave these two for Gordon and his cops," Catwoman directed. "I could get used to this super-hero business!"
"Why did you save me?" Scully asked.
"Batman told me about you and your partner's efforts to root out corruption and seek out the truth. In Washington as well as Gotham, they seem to have plenty to hide!"
"I want to thank you," Scully went on. "You may be a cat-burglar, but that's a problem for local law enforcement, not the FBI. Mulder and I are seeking out the paranormal, not ordinary people, however disfigured. I don't see any shape-shifters or werewolves here."
"Speaking of your partner," Catwoman replied. "You'd better get back to the hospital. I think you'll find agent Mulder is recovering nicely."
Scully cuffed the two clowns and walked off.
"Hmm...I wonder if I should have told her about Clayface and Man-Bat," Catwoman thought. "Nah-h!"
Mulder and Scully were again on their way.
"Sorry, no paranormal phenomena here," Scully noted.
"What Gotham City has is the gunfighter syndrome," Mulder concluded.
"What's that?"
"You know, in the Old West, a town would hire a gunslinger when things got out of control. At first the crime rate would go down dramatically, but soon every punk with a gun would show up to test his mettle, and things would be worse than ever."
"Batman represents the gunslinger," Scully concluded. "So now Gotham City is overrun with psychopaths and megalomaniacs, trying to outwit him. Larger than life heroes attract larger than life villains. No mutants or aliens need apply."
"Oh, well," Mulder sighed. "Maybe next time. One of the nurses told me there's a man in a neighboring town who claims to be from another planet. The nurse says he's faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, and is able to leap tall buildings in a single bound!"
"Here we go again!" Scully replied.
The signpost ahead of them read: METROPOLIS 50 mi.
¹ See Catwoman #58 & 59
This story is by Al Tootikan. He is a big Catwoman/Batman fan and writes most of his fanfics about them. I personally thought this one was pretty good and pretty funny. Be sure to email with your comments and feedback.
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